


keep the nightmares out, give me mouth to mouth

by unforgvnsam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace, Anxiety, Cage Trauma, Dissociation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Castiel, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed, Traumatized Sam Winchester, it's not super graphic but it's there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 16:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13814592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unforgvnsam/pseuds/unforgvnsam
Summary: A divine being on the filthy floor of a frigid, disgusting motel bathroom, in front of a tired, fractured man. An Angel of the Lord in front of the Boy with the Demon Blood and Lucifer’s True Vessel. Something as holy and sacred as Castiel kneeling in front of something as unholy and broken as Sam Winchester.





	keep the nightmares out, give me mouth to mouth

**Author's Note:**

> this is largely [gaywitchtwins](http://gaywitchtwins.tumblr.com) and [eruthiawenluin](http://eruthiawenluin.tumblr.com)'s fault, bc we were talking about why cas doesn't canonically share a room with sam anymore after early s11 (spoiler alert: it's the lucifer-using-castiel's-vessel thing) which lead to me hc that sam has anxiety attacks and dissociative episodes painfully similar to the hallucifer stuff in s7. I love you a lot but fuck you very much, nate and eru.
> 
> and if it's not noticeable, I really love castiel calling sam by his full name and vice versa.
> 
> on tumblr at [unforgvnsam](http://unforgvnsam.tumblr.com).

 

**Sam:**   _I thought you got a room with two beds and a couch._ **  
**

Sam sighs as he sends the message to Dean. It’s stupid. He shouldn’t be nervous or upset or scared or  _anything_  like that. Castiel says something and Sam looks up, trying to act normal, even though he lost the ability to feel like that a long time ago. Cas is sitting across from him at the table, helping him research for the case. “Sorry, what?”

“Is something wrong, Sam?”

Cas looks genuinely concerned even though Sam only sighed once, and Sam feels oddly guilty because it just reminds him how damn stupid it is. Sam shakes his head slightly and shrugs. “No. It’s fine. Just… It’s nothing.” Cas gives him a confused nod but doesn’t push, which Sam appreciates while a part of him does wish he would ask again.

 **Dean:**   _nope, one bed. one couch. it’s the best thing the mtoel had available and I didnt wanna have to find another place._  
**Dean:** _**motel  
_**Dean:**   _figured you can share a bed w Cas. i’ll take the couch._

And there. That’s exactly what Sam was stupidly afraid Dean would say.

 **Sam:**   _Why am I sharing with Cas??_  
**Dean:**   _idk, because you’ve shared w him before. hell, you’ve even shared at the bunker. thought you wouldn’t mind_  
**Sam:**   _oh.  
_**Dean:**   _DO you mind ???_

Sam types out an answer but hits the backspace until his reply is gone because it’s a little too on the defensive side and puts his phone down, needing to take a moment before he tries again. He notices Cas glancing down at the books on the table instead of meeting his eyes and Sam fights the urge to sigh, looking back at the news article on his laptop instead.

It’s not that he minds it. Or he doesn’t mind  _Castiel_  anyway. Dean’s right. They have shared before, and maybe Sam didn’t mind it at all then. Maybe it was comforting for both of them. But they also haven’t slept in the same bed since Cas said yes to—

 **Sam:**   _No, it’s okay. I was just wondering. Also it’s only a full sized bed and I’m bigger than you._

There. That’s pretty neutral and makes him seem okay, right? God, if only he was okay.

“Sam. Are you sure you are alright?” Cas asks, the same concerned look on his face again. It’s the one that gives Sam the staggering feeling of being cared for, and it’s overwhelming. It makes him feel vulnerable every time, and being vulnerable is terrifying.

“I, uh…” Should he tell him? He’ll probably understand. Better than anyone else anyway. Sam almost opens his mouth to say something but then he remembers. It’s fucking stupid and he’s just overthinking things. “Yeah, thank you.”

Cas nods. “But know that if anything is bothering you, I’m willing to listen. You don’t need to keep everything to yourself.”

Sam gives him a small smile, forcing his words to come out in more than a soft mumble. “Thank you. That’s… It means a lot, Castiel.”

“Of course, Sam.”

The door opens before Sam can say anything else, and Dean holds up some bags. “Got dinner!” He hands Sam his salad with an exaggerated sigh. “I still say you need more than a damn salad, Sam, but here you go.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Did you tell Cas you’re sharing tonight?” Dean mumbles with fries in his mouth as he sits down.

“Uh, no. Not, um, not yet.”

“Sharing what?” Cas looks up, blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“That bed. I’m taking the couch.”

Castiel glances at Sam with what almost looks like a flash of realization on his face. Sam isn’t sure  _why_ , because they never talked about it. Or maybe Cas just knows. Maybe that’s why he never even attempted to share a room with Sam again. Or maybe Sam misread the look.

“You know I don’t actually sleep, Dean. Sam can have the bed to himself.”

There’s relief when the words come out of Cas’s mouth, but the surprising feeling of disappointment is stronger, just barely rising over the relief. And the underlying  _guilt_. The damn guilt that’s a part of Sam’s emotions almost constantly. It wins out.

“Cas. I’m not gonna make you sit on a chair all night. It’s fine. I don’t, um, mind. It’s been awhile.”

It has been. And now Sam suddenly misses it again. Sometimes he misses it during the night too, but not on the nights he dreams of Lucifer in Castiel’s vessel. Those are some of the worst nights, and maybe the reminder of Castiel still being Castiel would be comforting, but maybe seeing Castiel after one of those nightmares would be terrible. Sam’s not sure and he doesn’t want to find out. Hopefully tonight he’ll have a dreamless sleep. Or if necessary, a sleepless night.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Cas. It’s okay.”

Dean isn’t even looking at them anymore, busy with finding the pie, and Sam wishes he could be so indifferent.

He’s not.

* * *

Sam lies down on the bed on his stomach, his face looking in the opposite direction of Cas, glad that at  _least_  he doesn’t have to sleep against the wall. And he’s annoyed with Dean. He left for a bar and the chance of him actually coming back by morning and sleeping on the couch is minimal, but he still told them that it was his and they should stick to their own bed.

Sam takes a deep breath to calm himself down even though it doesn’t really help. He’s still mad at Dean and he’s still mad at himself for being scared of sharing the bed with Castiel. It’s stupid. That’s the thought that keeps running through his head.

It’s stupid because he  _trusts_  Castiel and he shouldn’t be scared. He trusts him with his life. Maybe too much for his own good sometimes. But he does trust him and Cas wouldn’t do anything to purposefully harm Sam. Sam just doesn’t trust his own mind. He doesn’t trust his memories or his dreams. And he’ll never trust Lucifer.

Sam can feel Castiel shift next to him, probably rolling over to look at him. Or at the back of his head anyway. “Sam?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Are you alright?” It’s a dumb question and they probably both know it but Cas’s soft voice has a calming effect on Sam’s heart rate. Lucifer’s voice sounds different, less soft and more harsh. This is definitely Castiel.

It takes Sam a few seconds to reply, going through the same argument he had in his head earlier. And he comes to the same conclusion all over again.

“I’m fine, yeah. Thanks.” It’s a dumb answer and they definitely both know it.

Cas makes a noise like he’s starting to say something else but then he twists around to face the wall again. “Goodnight, Sam. I hope you sleep well.”

“Thank you, Castiel.”

It’s nice of him, but Sam doesn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t want to dream about Lucifer, especially not in Castiel’s vessel. And with the thoughts running through his head endlessly since they got to the motel, it’ll happen if he falls asleep.

* * *

Sam puts his phone back on the nightstand. He’s been lying there for about an hour now and he’s tired but doesn’t want to…  _can’t_  fall asleep. This sucks and he wishes he could talk to Cas. He runs his hand down the side of his face in frustration and turns around, uncomfortable after being in the same position for so long, coming face to face with Cas. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing deeply which is about as close as he comes to sleeping.

He probably sensed that Sam was closer to him because he opens his eyes. “You aren’t sleeping, Sam.”

If he asked it instead of stating it, Sam would pretend he just woke up, but he stated it so Sam isn’t sure what to say. “I… yeah. Not exactly.” He laughs, trying to make the situation less tense, but it comes out shaky. “It’s fine. I’ll sleep eventually.”

“We can sleep the way we used to, it it’ll help. What is it called? I…” Cas gives him a questioning look, and Sam laughs for real this time. It’s always so oddly endearing when Cas tries to figure out human customs.

“Spooning?”

“Yes, that. That used to help you sleep.”

Sam smiles slightly and scratches the back of his head. Cas is right. It did, probably still  _does_ , help him sleep. He woke up a few times like that when he shared a room with Cas in the bunker, and it became a habit because it made both of them sleep better. Or “sleep” in Castiel’s case. “I, uh… if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, Sam. If it helps you, I would do almost anything.” Cas carefully reaches for Sam’s face and pushes a strand of hair away from his eyes, his fingers lingering on the side of his face. Sam’s breath catches awkwardly, and he has one of those moments where he wonders if maybe he’s a little in love with his best friend. Maybe he has those moments too often. He twists around so at least he’s not looking at Cas and he can feel him move closer to him, putting his arm around him. Sam finally relaxes a little against his chest and tries not to shiver when he feels Castiel’s breath against his neck, not wanting Cas to think he’s making Sam feel uncomfortable because he’s not.

It’s been a really long moment of wondering this time and he falls asleep wondering.

* * *

_“Cas, what are you doing?” Sam backs up, nervously, only to bump into the library table behind him. Cas keeps moving closer and the expression on his face changes into something completely un-Cas-like and more—_

_“It’s not Castiel right now, Sammy. It’s your buddy Lucifer.” Castie—_ Lucifer _grins in that way that only he can as he traces his hand along Sam’s jawline as he tries to pull away. “How you doin’ these days, pretty boy?” He steps back, making a fist and Sam falls to the floor in pain, slamming against the chairs and hitting his head against the table, but not hard enough to pass out. He can’t breathe and his lungs are probably nonexistent now. He wants to pass out._

_“Leave Cas…” Sam coughs, and now he has blood coming out of his mouth too. “Leave Castiel out of this.” His voice is strained but he forces the words out, no matter how panic-laced they are._

_“But why would I do that, Sam?” Lucifer tilts his head with a smile, and this time it looks_ too much _like Cas. He clenches his fist tighter and the all-encompassing hurt just increases. Sam’s skin feels like it’s burning and freezing at the same time. “Seeing your angel like this just makes the pain worse, doesn’t it?”_

—somebody is shaking him and he sits up, still gasping for air and cold. “It was a dream, Sam. It’s okay.” It’s said in a calming and gentle way, and, somewhere in the part of his head that’s being rational and isn’t panicking, he knows Castiel was the one who said it, but his instinct is telling him to get the fuck  _away_ , because it was Lucifer. And Lucifer wants to hurt him. Will hurt him.

He stumbles to his feet, spinning around to look at Lucifer… Or is it Castiel? He’s not sure, but whoever it is is giving him the worried look that Castiel usually gives him. He’s not standing up either, but acting more like he doesn’t want to spook Sam any more than necessary. So maybe it is Castiel and maybe he realizes what Sam dreamt about.

Sam doesn’t know but his brain is trying to find any logic that it can.

“Sam.” Jimmy Novak, because that’s the simplest thing to call him right now, gets to his feet slowly without stepping any closer to Sam. Or is Novak dead? He lurches backwards anyway but he keeps his eyes on… Jimmy. Dead or alive doesn’t matter right now. “It’s me. Castiel. Lucifer isn’t here. He can’t hurt you, and I would  _never_  hurt you, Sam Winchester.”

It  _is_  Castiel, isn’t it? The way he says his name and the concern on his face. It has to be.

Sam nods, trying to let Cas know he understands even though his whole body is trembling with anxiety. “I’m… Um, uh… I’m gonna go to the b-bathroom.” He forces himself to walk past Castiel and locks the bathroom door behind him. He leans against it for a few moments, attempting to breathe normally. The bathroom is cramped with just a toilet and the shower, but he slides down the door to sit on the floor. Pulls his knees against chest. Runs his fingers through his hair. Bites the inside of his cheek too hard. Grimaces at the taste of blood in his mouth. Scratches his wrist until that bleeds too.

He’s tired. Tired of having Lucifer in his head and in his dreams. He doesn’t hallucinate him anymore, and he’ll be thankful to Cas for that forever, but he still has his memory and his overactive imagination. And it’s exhausting.

He stands up slowly and turns the shower on, waits until the water is warm because he’s still feeling cold just like after every Lucifer nightmare, and splashes water on his face. It makes him feel a little better even though he’s getting his sleeves and the front of his shirt a little wet. He washes off his wrist, ignoring the sharp sting, and grabs a towel to dry his hands and face off. He sits back down on the floor, leaning against the small area of exposed wall across from the toilet this time and pulling his knees to his chest again.

“Castiel?” Sam doesn’t say his name loudly, and he’s not even sure if Cas will hear him because he’s probably still by the bed.

“Yes?” His voice is coming from right outside the door, and it sounds like he’s sitting on the floor too.

“Oh. Uh… You’re here?”

“I didn’t want to leave you alone completely. I can go if that’s what you wa—”

“No, don’t. Please.” Sam doesn’t hear Cas stand up but he’s not sure what to say now that he knows he’s still there. They sit in silence for a while until Cas quietly speaks up.

“I’m sorry I could not help more and I’m sorry that I contributed to your anxiety and traum—”

“Cas, no. This isn’t your fault and I don’t blame you. I’m sorry. You know… that you have to deal with my anxiety. I’m a fucking  _mess_.”

“You don’t have to apologize. And the last thing you should ever blame is yourself.” Cas sighs, just barely loud enough that Sam can hear him. “Blame Lucifer. Blame  _him_ … And you can blame me too. But please do not blame yourself, Samuel Winchester. You did nothing wrong.”

It’s that overwhelming feeling of being cared for, and it just hits him all over again, and now Sam has tears in his eyes. A quiet sob breaks out even though he fights it for Cas’s sake.

“Sam? Sam, are you okay?” There’s a worried urgency in Castiel’s tone and he’s standing up, but Sam can’t bring himself to say anything. “Would you mind opening the door?” Sam reaches for the lock without getting up off the cold tile and Castiel opens the door just enough so that he can squeeze in without hitting Sam with it and pushes it until it’s almost closed again. Sam glances up, trying to wipe the tears out of his eyes, but the gentle, concerned look is back on Castiel’s face and this time it completely overcomes him and another sob forces it’s way past his clenched teeth. Either way, it’s definitely Castiel because only Castiel ever looks at him like that.

“I’m sorry, Cas. Fuck.” Sam laughs shakily through the tears. “See? Total mess.”

“Come here, Sam.” Castiel carefully reaches for his hand and Sam grips it, probably too tightly, but he needs something to hold onto right now. Cas is about to help him stand when he sees the scratches on Sam’s arm, peeking out from under the wet sleeve. “Did you… Did you do this to yourself?”

Sam meets his eyes for less than a second before dropping his gaze down to their intertwined hands, swallowing nervously. His words come out in a choked whisper when he says, “Yeah. I’m… Yeah. Sorry.”

Castiel kneels down on the hard, dirty floor in front of Sam, even though it’s a tight fit between Sam’s legs and the toilet. “I can heal it if that’s what you want.” Sam looks up at him again slowly and nods. He doesn’t mind the pain in his body but he minds the pain on Castiel’s face.

Cas puts his other hand on Sam’s wrist gently and Sam closes his eyes with a painless wince when he feels the grace in his veins. It’s warm and it helps stabilize the knowledge that this is Castiel. Lucifer’s grace is ice cold, freezing to the point where it starts to feel like you’re on fire instead. Castiel’s is warm and causes a floating sensation. It makes him feel safe and free all at the same time.

Cas moves his hand to Sam’s face, smoothing the hair out of it. “You don’t have to apologize, you know.” Sam meets his fierce but equally soft blue eyes and Cas holds his gaze, bringing his other hand to Sam’s face, wiping the stray tears away. Sam takes a deep, stuttering breath, and he’s wondering all over again if he’s in love with him. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Samuel Winchester.”

Maybe Castiel is too close, practically pressed against his knees and both his hands delicately holding his face, but Sam doesn’t care. It’s relieving to have Castiel’s weight against him, grounding him. Maybe Sam is leaning into Castiel’s palms, wanting more of Castiel’s quiet calm. Maybe he really is in love with this angel. And maybe— and this is the biggest maybe of all— the angel cares for him too.

Sam almost wants to laugh at the bizarre situation, but at the same time, he feels humbled and in awe.

A divine being on the filthy floor of a frigid, disgusting motel bathroom, in front of a tired, fractured man. An Angel of the Lord in front of the Boy with the Demon Blood and Lucifer’s True Vessel. Something holy and sacred  _kneeling_  in front of something as unholy and broken as Sam Winchester.

Castiel’s fingers brush against Sam’s hair again and Sam’s gaze follows him as he stands. He holds out his hand and Sam takes it, letting Cas pull him to his feet again. Sam’s taller than him once more, but he can’t shake the vulnerable state Castiel manages to leave him in so often.

Cas swings the door open, letting go of Sam’s hand, and Sam follows him, thankful for the extra space but almost sad that Castiel is so far away again.

“Lucifer is in your vessel in my dreams sometimes.” Sam’s doesn’t know why the words fall out of his mouth but they do. Castiel turns around to stare at Sam with a sad look on his soft features.

“I’m sorry, Sam… I… assumed it might be something like that.” He steps a little closer and reaches for Sam but stops, as if he thinks better of it, and let’s his hand drop. “I understand that you don’t trust me. I… I would probably be scared of me too. Lucifer is…” He shakes his head like he doesn’t want to think about it and sighs. “I’m sorr-”

“No, Cas. No. I  _do_  trust you. I trust you a lot. I know you wouldn’t try to hurt me.” This time Sam reaches for Castiel and brushes his fingers against his jaw because Castiel isn’t looking at him anymore; he’s staring at the floor with broken remorse on his face. “Hey, it’s okay.” His quiet, almost whisper breaks a little when he says that, and not because he doesn’t mean it, but because his emotions keep overwhelming him tonight. He usually has a better grip on them and can hide them even if he does feel like shit randomly. Apparently it’s not working right now.

“He usually appears in them in the middle of ordinary life… And then he hurts me somehow.” He’s talking again, and he feels a little detached from the action itself, but he needs to keep going instead of falling apart. Rambling to Cas might help. Castiel can understand something about Lucifer better than… anyone. “Sometimes me and you, we’re researching, or we’re on a hunt, or we’re sharing a bed, or maybe we’re with Jack in the Bunker.” He probably shouldn’t mention the time it happened after Cas kissed him. That time was especially awful. “It’s just… We’re always  _okay_. We’re safe from him. We’re doing something normal. It could be a situation like this. Where we’re just talking…”

Sam’s voice trails off when he realizes what he said, and it’s so stupid. It can’t be. No. This  _is_ Castiel. This is  _real_.

But his right hand automatically goes to his left palm, where the nonexistent scar only pretends to still exist.

He swallows hard, his gaze dropping down to the thin carpeting. There’s something white stuck on the rough material. It’s probably a small piece of gum that no one could scrub off the surface. Or nobody cared enough to try. Besides, it almost fits right in with the mess of odd shades of interwoven pale orange, some ugly green color, and a faded black, which shouldn’t be able to clash with something, but right here and right now to Sam’s tired eyes, it does. It makes him think of that bowling alley he went to for Jess’s birthday in early ‘05. She beat everyone at the party. She’s a lot better than him at bowling.

 _Was_. She was.

It was a long time ago too and Sam needs to refocus on the now, even though his brain wants to do anything but. The human in front of him might help with that. Jimmy Novak? Is that his na—

Angel. He’s an angel. Not a human. Not Jimmy. Jimmy’s in Heaven. Is it Castiel or Lucifer though? The difference is probably life and death. No, life and unending anguish without even the comfort of lasting death. The difference between between being topside and in the Cage.

His thoughts are completely spiraling and he knows it but he’s not sure how to stop them either.

“Sam? Sam.” The angel is putting his arms around him and Sam wants to flinch away from the anticipated agony when he realizes. It’s life. It’s Castiel. He’s gonna be okay.

And suddenly he’s crying again. His head is on Castiel’s firm shoulder, his face pressed against Castiel’s warm neck, his hand gripping the front of Castiel’s soft sleepshirt. He’s concentrating again. Cas’s fingers are tangled in Sam’s hair and he’s whispering everything and nothing in Sam’s ear and it’s helping. Sam’s a fucking mess but he’s finally focusing.

They’ve been standing there like that for a few minutes and Sam isn’t sobbing anymore and it’s starting to feel a little uncomfortable for his neck and his shoulders and his back because Castiel is shorter than him; he doesn’t want to move.

“Thank you, Castiel,” Sam whispers, pulling away slightly and trying to wipe his tears away. “And sorry.”

Cas brushes a strand of hair away from Sam’s eyes yet again and gives him a small, comforting smile. “Apologizing would be nonsense, Sam.”

“I’m… just… thanks.”

“Of course.” Cas nods once, the gentle half smile still on his face. “You should try to get some sleep before morning.” Sam winces at the thought but agrees and Cas awkwardly guides him to the bed even though it’s barely a few feet away, like he needs to protect him. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Sam’s head jerks up from where he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, feeling an odd surge of panic. “Castiel.” His voice manages to crack on the single, quiet word, and he’s staring up at Cas with a look that’s almost pleading.

“I don’t want to make anything worse, Sam.” He sounds guilty and Sam shakes his head.

“I… Stuff like this just happens sometimes.  _Has_  been happening for a long time. I just… freak out in random situations and just… try to get away and deal with it so I don’t bother anyone. It’s usually during the night anyway, but, I, um, sharing a room with you was actually when they didn’t really happen during the night.”

“This happens often and you go through it alone?” Now Cas sounds horrified for his sake.

“Yeah… They, just, sometimes it feels like I could be in the Cage again and all my memories are an illusion… That I’m just gonna  _wake up_  again there. And there’s usually a part of me that  _knows_ everything is real and that I’m up here, with you an—and Dean, and not down there, but it can be hard to shake. I don’t know… I just don’t want to be a burden on either of you.” Sam’s gaze dropped down again as he was talking and Castiel takes a step closer and holds his face so that his eyes are fixed on Cas.

“Samuel Winchester, you will not burden me if you need to speak. I promise. I'm here for you.”

Sam brings his hand up to cover Castiel’s for a moment before mumbling, “Do you mind laying here with me?”

“If you think it will help without making things worse, I do not mind at all.”

Sam moves to the other side of the bed so that Cas can lie down next to him, not caring that he’s the one by the wall this time. Castiel starts to ask something but Sam knows what he’s going to say and he shifts closer, leaning his head against his chest and letting Cas put his arms around him. Sam relaxes, his arm slung over Castiel, feeling more comfortable than he has all night. Maybe more comfortable than he has in a long time.

He feels Castiel’s lips brush gently against his forehead. Or maybe he imagined it. He’s not sure.

“I love you, Sam Winchester.”

Sam probably would’ve choked on air if he wasn’t so close to falling asleep. “I love you, too, Castiel.”

He’s too exhausted to figure out exactly what either of them mean.

 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback both kills and gives me life so like,,,,,, hmu and validate me ?? thanks. xxx


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